Day 35
I had a crappy dream. I have them a lot, lately. I have never completely understood the process behind our dreams. I HATE to dream. Good or bad, I have never liked it. They are not real, in any way, shape or form. If it is good then there is a huge chance it won't happen. Bad? A huge chance it will happen, or it already happened I just forgot somehow. Indifferent? A waste of my brain waves that could have spent time actually sleeping. Either way, I don't like dreams if you catch my drift. So last night was another one about my extended family. Another one about not being accepted for breathing the wrong way. A life coach once told me that I had an issue with abandonment that stemmed from my sisters moving at a critical time in my pubescent growth. Leaving me with two alcoholic parents, that soon separated, and got back together, and separated again. And got back together.Again.Writing this I realize this was also an issue. Never a security, most days my mom would threaten divorce or separation to get what she wanted. It worked for her, but left me in fragile place. That is another day though. The abandonment thing right? Well anyway, I can't blame my sisters for leaving, they were young and wanted out. I blamed them for a lot of years though and that led to a pretty turbulent relationship for us. I recognize though now, that I have felt this way my whole life. I always wanted friendships that lasted for life. A family that was like a bunch of Italians sitting around, yelling and laughing. It was also built into me at a young age, that if we were to sin, or make mistakes, we could lose this at any time. When I say "lose", I am using it very loosely.Haha. You are literally cast out. So what did I do? Well I behaved as any human would, I stayed as close to perfection as I could, knowing at any minute it could be ripped away from me. I was shamed into doing what was right. Much like a dog who wants approval from his masters, I continually looked up to see if my path was correct. Problem is, I am not perfect. Or anywhere close to it for that matter.So what happened when I sinned?Well in my home you literally got the book thrown at you. Wait, maybe that is figuratively. I remember sneaking out and going to a haunted house when I was seventeen. It came out months later and I came home to the wrath of hours of lecture and bible reading. My mom read the bible to me and my dad sat quietly, trying to give me glimpses of love so that I would not sink into the couch any further. Every parent searches for some way to keep their child going in the right direction. Everyone is imperfect, so this usually is done in vain. I don't blame them or her for how it happened, it worked. When I was told that my heart was not right and that I had tarnished my relationship with god, I usually stopped doing what I was doing. Or I learned how to hide it better. Problem was, I went to a haunted house. The punishment never matched the crime in my house. An R-rated movie, a swear word, a shirt that was too tight? All forms of a horrid sin. And going to a haunted house meant I destroyed every inch of hope I had for my future and I was worthless.Meanwhile, my friends were drinking, doing drugs, having sex and they got grounded for a day. Does this make it right? No, not at all. But it also puts things into perspective. I think my parents didn't know what to do with me. My sisters were the prime example of the perfect children. They began parenting me from the moment I incubated the womb. They felt this need considering my parents were practicing alcoholics for half of my life and most of theirs. They were never just my sisters, they were always my co-parents. Now if I thought my parents were hard on me, I realize why. There were only urban myths of my sisters misbehaving. To this day I don't even know if there is one thing that is true. My one sister was supposedly grounded at age six for putting a cord around my other sisters neck to play horsey. Now that I think about it, my middle sister never even had an urban myth. As she got older she was never favored by my mom because she spoke out about the fact that she thought my mom was a nut. Didn't go over well. Besides that? Nada. Then came the baby girl. Me. I seemed to think I was pretty good. Talked too much. Acted silly, but behaved. Until I got a little older. I don't know what it was that made me act out more. Was it that I felt trapped, like I had not experienced what others had already done at an earlier age? Was it that I had been taken advantage of by a couple guys and my self-esteem was low? Or was it just the fact that I am human? I guess I will never know. The only thing that I do know, is that there was no way I would do something so heinous that I would be taken away from my friends and family. The pain that would stem from that would surely put me in my grave. Well, it almost did.I felt so much guilt and shame for not meeting the bar that I was required to meet, that I drank or ate to meet that numb quota. Well I usually met it, or bypassed it completely. Healthy? Nope, but it served its purpose. Until it took over completely, and I was no longer in control. Now I face severe consequences daily. I ended up abandoned anyway and choosing to continue my life without the judgement that I have always felt. I have learned that it is not a big bad scary place out there, it is actually much more scary alone in the walls that kept me where I was. A cellmate in my own personal mental prison. Til later.
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